


Dumpster Diver

by ADevilsHunger (Dream_tempo)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Armpit Kink, Body Hair, Cock Worship, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Shot, Comeplay, Deputy Derek, Double Penetration, Exes, Insecurity, M/M, Married Sex, Snowballing, Sweat, Threesome - M/M/M, Valentine's Day, musk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9726692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/pseuds/ADevilsHunger
Summary: Now that they're engaged, Stiles wants to plan the best Valentine's for Derek yet. A threesome with his ex-boyfriend probably was a strange place to take that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt, "I love the way you write Sterek sometimes, including a third that doesn't necessarily make the pairing poly or anything, it's really great. Could you maybe do a short little Drabble thing of Sterek including Parrish? Take it where you'd like, I just love seeing those three together. Musk and man smells aplenty!" From my tumblr. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, just something I couldn't resist doing for the holiday, I'm sorry. :P Truly. And I love goofy, shitty titles, so that also couldn't be helped..

To say that Stiles is nervous about this would be the understatement of the year. His legs are jimmying on the end of the bed, knees pistoning past each other, and he’s sure he’s gonna have friction burns on the insides of his thighs before anything fun even gets to happen. Jordan doesn’t notice, tapping away on his phone with one arm behind his head, totally casual about being cock out in someone else’s house. 

Why wouldn’t he be? Stiles chews his lips as he looks over every inch of the perfectly cultivated twunk body. Those baby blue eyes, the dyed blonde hair, set on a baby face. The ridiculous, actually off-putting abs, body hair buzzed to a short burr. It’s like he came out of a catalogue or something. 

But that’s not even the big reason. N’aw, Stiles has been dealing with the insecurity of being Derek’s fiancee for a while now. He’s not particularly great at it, but he’s not single white female-ing or anything, so he considers it a win. The tension lies in the fact that Jordan and Derek have  _ already  _ fucked. A lot. At least, a lot in Stiles’ fantasies. He assumes that high school sweethearts as hot as them boned like bunnies, otherwise, what was the point? 

“Can’t I just shower? I’m off a double shift and—”

“Keep your eyes on your match three game and cool your jets Parrish! Not everything is about you!” Okay, maybe that was a little harsh, but Stiles is trying not to panic right now and he kind of needs this moment to exist on his periphery right now. He’s too busy examining possible, near future outcomes to hear Jordan mumbling about how it kinda, sorta is since he’s the one strewn across their mattress with Happy Valentine’s Day, Bear written in chocolate down his torso. There’s a heart that took a lot of doing around his cock too, but with all the waiting it’s started to melt and smear a little and Stiles thinks it might look more like a butt now. 

But none of that matters. What matters is that when Derek and he first started dating, Stiles may or may not have thrown a bit of a hissy fit finding out Derek worked, daily, with his ex-boyfriend. Not just worked— was partners with, spending eight hours a day together at minimum, frequently in enclosed spaces with, and always changed in the locker rooms together. Not just ex-boyfriend— the guy he dated all four years of high school, lost his virginity too, and only broke up with because long distance, college relationships don’t work. 

It was… a lot to handle for a scruffy, twinky kid that had been crushing on Derek for an eternity and had only gotten noticed while slutting it up on a dance floor in a crop top and with gold, glittery eye shadow. He’d felt so second rate, so being settled for, trying to always catch up to the successful, cut, calm, charming deputy. He was a kid, playing at adult, and pretty sure he was just being used to try and make an ex jealous. 

But that’s why he thought this was so brilliant at its inception. What better gift to give his boo than the proof that he’s grown past that? They’re different now. Derek’s let himself get adorably chubby. Stiles has successfully kept his small bookstore open for five months now. They live together, are due to get married soon. He’s not the college kid desperate for attention. Derek’s not the immature man without a direction. 

They both like kinky sex. They’ve invited a third to their bed before. Parrish is objectively hot and interested. He’s putting all the tangled emotion behind him, freeing them to move forward with their lives and grow closer together. By fucking their close friend. 

Right?

It’s kinda too late to back out, especially when he hears the door downstairs click open, Derek call out for him, and then slowly start climbing the stairs. Stiles may or may not squeak. He may or may not rip Jordan’s phone from his hands and throw it across the room. He definitely fails the sexy pose he practiced in the mirror for an hour this morning as he lounges on the door frame, crossing his legs and trying to look inviting for when Derek gets to the top of the stairs. 

“Babe?” Derek gives him the cutest, most smitten little smile as he takes in Stiles’ naked, hunched form. His eyebrows are furrowed in a puppyish confusion, but he’s tugging at his clothes already, approaching with utter trust that his weird-ass boyfriend won’t make things too awkward. Boy, is he in for a surprise. 

“I-uh… I got you a thing— in there, behind me. A V-Day thing.” That was also not the sultry, teasing line he’d spent all of breakfast writing and rewriting. Shit. 

Derek just chuckles, hairy muscle chub jiggling a little as he walks over. Fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing in the world. Abs are great for movie stars or whatever. Husbands should, 1000% have more cushion for the pushin. It’s so damn sexy when Derek bears down on him with his full weight, shows off those thighs that could suffocate a man, let’s Stiles fuck between his chest… and there’s a boner. 

Derek takes it in with a raised brow, smug smirk that so belies his frat boy origins. “How about we take  _ that  _ downstairs instead? I bought us a cheesecake sampler and Civil War is on Netflix now. We could frot on the couch, edge a little, whaddya say?” Stiles doesn’t mean to make the sounds he does, really. The weird, wounded moan that floats out his mouth and makes Derek’s bulge twitch is involuntary. 

Fuck if that doesn’t sound perfect. He’s half tempted to say yes, tell Derek to go ahead of him, he’ll grab some blankets, and tell Parrish to climb out the window. But that, for sure, seems like the move old him would take. New him, the one that doesn’t run screaming from confrontation, stands his ground, even if this is gonna suck. “That sounds wonderful and I really wanna eat your ridiculous, sexy ass until you cry and I pass out from oxygen deprivation, and I want you to know that, but also… that  _ thing  _ I got? It’s kinda time sensitive, so... “ He gives Derek an awkward grimace and bobs his head over his shoulder a couple times. 

Derek just rolls his eyes, leans over to give him a sweet, hello kiss, and then brushes past him into the bedroom. He freezes on the spot. Stiles thinks maybe he’ll just stare at the adorable patch of dark hair on the small of Derek’s back for the next ten minutes instead of try to own up to this. “Stiles?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s a naked guy in our bedroom.”

“Ya, Bear.”

“A naked guy that happens to be my ex-boyfriend.”

“That sure is another fact.”

“He’s got melted chocolate pooling in his balls.”

“I can’t really say I thought that one through.”

“But the naked coworker was for sure on purpose?”

“I’d certainly hope so, or you two are having some communication issues that should really be worked out before you hit the beat again on Monday.” 

Derek finally turns to look at him and Stiles isn’t really sure how to read what’s on his face at the moment. Parrish is doing his best to ignore them both, drawing designs in the chocolate on his body that definitely no longer forms legible words. “Is this like, a test?” 

“Nooo! No, no, no, no, no. Babe, that’s so not, woah.” Stiles finally stumbles his way into the room, taking Derek by the hips and looking him in the eye with every ounce of earnestness that he can possibly muster. “Of course not, I trust you completely. That’s the point! I know I was a giant dick about him before and I wanted to prove I’m over it.” 

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes and huffs that grumpy cat huff that’s really only cute if it’s not aimed at you. Otherwise it hits with all the force of disappointed dad shoulder slumps. “And why exactly are you here?” Derek looks over at his partner, staying close enough to still be in Stiles’ arms. 

“Uhm…” Parrish has chocolate on his lips, a chub, and was in the middle of scratching his armpits. It’s weirdly endearing. Stiles thinks maybe he should be concerned about wires getting crossed in his brain, because he also thinks Derek’s adorable when he spends three minutes grimacing and trying to inelegantly scratch  _ just  _ the right place on his balls. Maybe he  _ was  _ dropped on his head as a kid and people aren’t just saying that to be snarky. “Your ass has never been fatter and Stiles has cocksucker lips and I didn’t have anything to do tonight besides masturbate and play Titanfall, so…”

Wait— were he and Parrish kind of similar? Did Derek have a type? Is Stiles Jordan 2.0— younger, brattier, kinkier? “Shut up, I can hear you thinking stupid shit.” Derek doesn’t even turn to look at him, just plants a hand in his face and uses that to drag him over to toss onto the bed. Derek crosses his arms as he looks at the both of them, obviously trying to decide if he’s more frustrated or aroused. “All the girls I dated were psychotic and the guys dumbasses. I’m not sure which is worse. The hatesex was great with someone that legit wanted to choke me out, but apology blowjobs from guys that know they fucked up every other week give that a run for it’s money.” 

“You love my sloppy beej, babe. All the slurping sounds. How much time I spend on your balls. How sensitive the creases of your thighs are… The cummy kisses after… c’mon, you like dirty better than kinky and I’m the nastiest dumpster you ever dove in.” 

“I don’t think you’re selling yourself as well as you think you are.” Jordan is wrinkling his nose, but Stiles has his arms outstretched, the cheesiest possible grin on his face, and he can see Derek trying his damnedest to suppress a laugh. 

“You’re the  _ worst _ .” Derek shakes his head as he finally shucks his pants, showing off the impressive bob of his half-hard cock as he walks over to the bed and pushes Stiles down onto it. 

“Wait— that worked? You two are terrible, you know that right?” 

“Shhhh… If you’re gonna put that mouth to work, make sure it’s on mine or Derek’s nipples. We’re both crazy sensitive there and it’s been torture not to be able to both lick at them at the same time.” Stiles likes to think that was an amazing argument and not that Jordan had already been here for an hour and a half and so he might as well get some sex out of it. In any case, Derek makes an excited, little noise when he ends up in the middle of them. 

Jordan is behind him, raising an arm to lick and snuffle at his damp pits while Stiles slithers down his body to get to work on that sticky, raunchy foreskin he loves to get his tongue under. Derek looks beautiful strung out, always has. Whether it’s tied up while Stiles rides his dick at a snail’s pace, or writhing with his ass jiggling in the air, hole sloppy and begging for more, he’s at his best sweating and swearing and with so much pre having run down his cock it’s matting his thick bush. 

Stiles buries his nose in it now, humming as he feels Derek throb in his throat, his own eyes rolling back in his head at the lush feeling of that fur tickling his his cheeks— the raw, lewd smell of Derek’s sweaty balls filling him up. Derek starts to buck into him when Jordan works into his ass— the other man almost fucking his mouth by proxy, the rhythm of his thrusts dictating Derek’s. 

Eventually Stiles pulls off, needing to flood his fiancee’s ass with the load that’s starting to build, the electric tingle in his taint that has him clenching hard to hold it back. “Open those legs babe, wanna give you something special.” Derek blushes, still, but slowly parts his thick, trembling thighs, showing off where his partner is buried balls deep inside him. 

Stiles chuckles, wipes the sweat and pre off his mouth with his wrist as he rubs a thumb over Derek’s hairy taint before pushing it in alongside Parrish’s dick. Derek moans, rolls his head back, arches off the bed. Stiles slides up his body to suck at his throat, rolling his hips over and over to slowly, slowly work his small, plump cock in too. 

It never takes much prep anyway, and with Derek so loose and greedy, soon he’s shaking as he tries not to come right away from the grip of Derek’s ass and the slide of Jordan’s cock. They move counter to each other, adding more textured friction as their dickheads glance off another in passing, their balls sticking and sliding while Derek grabs onto each of them with a white knuckled grip. 

Stiles goes first, how could he not? “Der, baby, I’m gonna—” 

“Come on my cock, please!” It’s a near thing, but Stiles is  _ just  _ able to pull out as he starts to shoot. He soaks Derek’s bush, paints his dick, gushes all over his bouncing balls. They moan together and Stiles watches as Derek reaches down to rub it in, whimpering as he jacks off with the musky spending. 

“Jesus, christ!” Jordan’s eyes are huge as he watches, his face is red and his muscles are quivering. Stiles watches his movements get jerky and rough, thrusting harder and deeper into Derek as his own cum starts to squelch out with every aborted fuck— being punched out the gaping hole and spattering onto the cock it came from. 

Stiles moans and leans down to start licking at it, tasting Derek’s ass and Parrish’s cum and burying his face where they’re joined. He feels part of Derek’s spray get in his hair and rubs his cheek against his fiancee’s hairy thigh, biting at the jiggling flesh of his ass playfully. 

Derek’s breathy laugh is enough to make Stiles’ heart absolutely  _ soar  _ and he knows he’s a total sap, but he can’t help it. He grins as he comes up for air, nuzzles into Derek’s spunk-reeking hand as it cups his face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “I still think you’re an idiot.” 

He says it with moony eyes, that special, little grin, absolute adoration in the timbre of his voice. “Ya, but I’m you’re idiot.” 

“I thought you were a dumpster.” Derek smothers Jordan’s face this time and Stiles laughs as the two start to squabble and wrestle. 

As far as bad ideas go, this one turned out pretty alright. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to come throw me your own prompts! ](http://drivenbyadevilshunger.tumblr.com)


End file.
